


does it spark joy?

by cestmabiologie



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 19:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8413831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestmabiologie/pseuds/cestmabiologie
Summary: What’s that you say? You want an au where Alison cleans up after everyone’s messes? Good! With sections titled after chapters from the life-changing magic of tidying up? Great!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: blood mention, gore mention, death mention, murder mention

**I. Start by discarding, all at once, intensely and completely**

“You told her to buy a shovel?” Alison was incredulous. “And, what—just bury the body wherever?”

“Hey, I don’t know,” Cosima said. “It’s not like I’ve ever had to bury a body.”

She was stretched out across Alison’s sofa. She looked tired. She’d just flown in from Minnesota—of course she was tired. Alison pulled some throw blankets from a basket and passed them to Cosima. She’d let her nap, but she’d make her leave well before Oscar and Gemma might wake up.

“No, no, of course not. I’m just saying that’s not what I would have done.”

**II. Keep things out of the bath and the kitchen sink**

When Aynsley went, she knocked stuff off the kitchen counter: rolls of packing tape, a soap dish, a scrubber. Alison’s hands itched to set them back in place. That was her first impulse: to pick up the things that’d dropped to the floor. They didn’t belong down there. To right the soap bottle still on the counter, on its side and gently rocking. Aynsley’s house was always enviably tidy, as if she didn’t have kids at all. And this just looked wrong (Alison didn’t look at Aynsley, not closely). It was distracting.

Her second impulse was to get out of Aynsley’s house before anyone saw.

**III. Reduce until you reach the point where something clicks**

It should have been tougher the first time. She should have been horrified (she was, later, when she let herself think about it. But in the moment?); she should have tasted bile, or recoiled with her fingertips pressed white into her lips, or something.

Instead, when Donnie opened the trunk and showed her the body (hastily wrapped in plastic and leaking everywhere — Alison had had to buy a steam cleaner. It was hard to believe that there was a time before when she didn’t own a steam cleaner), she saw a mess.

This was nothing like Aynsley. This was gore and _God knows what else_ – the sort of stuff you have to tie back your hair and roll up your sleeves to tackle. To scrub away. To remove every stain, every trace.

It was…surprisingly satisfying. There was something about endless scrubbing that was (admittedly) meditative. I mean, surely she’d prefer to be cleaning up something other than this violent aftermath, but the act felt good. Like she was protecting Donnie.

That’s exactly what it was: she was protecting.

**_IV. Keep things out of the bath and the kitchen sink_ **

“You have one of them in your bathtub? I don’t – Slow down, Felix. Cosima and Scott removed his _what_?”

Alison held the phone in place with her shoulder as she tightened her ponytail, mentally tabulating what she was about to face in Felix’s apartment. Bloodstains she could handle. Brain and bits of skull, she’d dealt with before. But she’d have to figure out what to do about the body. She started pulling cleaning supplies, rubber gloves, and scrub brushes out of their cupboards.

“Maybe we should wait until Sarah gets back,” Felix said.

Unbelievable.

“No,” she told him as evenly as she could, “I can help you out. I’ll be over soon.”

**V. What to do when you can’t throw something away**

Alison’s white puffy coat could not be saved despite her best efforts. That was the biggest disappointment. She’d had to burn it. ( _It’s okay: you have another_ , she reminded herself. _It’s okay: you have another_.)

At least Pouchy’s auto shop was spotless in exactly the sort of greasy-grimy way you’d expect.

“I just want you to be safe,” Donnie said once he found out what she’d done (what had he expected after he’d shown up at the school bruised and beaten? At least Helena had told her exactly what had happened).

“Anyone who could hurt me is dead by the time I get there,” she told him. “As far as murder goes, cleanup is as safe as you can get.”

“Ali, stop,” he said, grabbing her. She waited, but he just looked at her. She matched his concern with hers. _This is something I can do for all of us_ , she thought. _Please don’t take that away from me_. She saw the tension in his shoulders soften. She felt him relent.

“Just…don’t get hepatitis,” he said finally. She pecked him on the cheek.

**VI. Learning that you can do without**

Once her heart stopped racing she thought: _I was thinking of redecorating the living room anyway. I can work with this._

**VII. Your real life begins after putting your house in order**

Helena came in with blood on her clothes (again). Sarah was a shadow in the doorway with a cut lip (again).

“Stop!” Alison said. Helena stopped.

“Don’t drip.” Helena pressed her lips together, unsure of how to prevent that. She was a mess. They both were.

“You don’t have to keep doing this you know,” Sarah said, “S has connections. She knows people who deal in making shite like this go away.”

“I don’t mind it,” Alison said.

“Alison, seriously,” she tried again, but she also took the cleaning caddy when Alison handed it to her. Alison knew that when Sarah was squeamish enough, and she usually was, she’d let Alison take over without too much convincing. 

Besides, Sarah had called her in the first place to say they were coming.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
